


"10:32"

by promise_june



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Gen, Psychological Horror, implicit cannibalism, mild gore? possibly?, renjun-centric, supernatural? maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/promise_june/pseuds/promise_june
Summary: He sat, he lay down, he stood.He paced back and forth, he huddled and cried, he did everything he could, yet nothing changed.He was stuck in this unending drive, an endless route.10:32.The numbers haunted him.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16
Collections: Challenge #2 — tricks; treats; and terrors





	"10:32"

Renjun was suddenly on a bus, his head resting against the window. He frowned. Why was he on the bus? 

No matter how he tried, he couldn’t remember why he was on the bus. 

How did he get on? Where was he headed?

He looked up to check the LED display.  _ 10:32 _ . There was no destination indicated, no  _ NEXT STOP _ listed. 

When he tried to ask the person sitting next to him, the mere tap on their shoulder was enough to tilt their body over. 

They fell into the aisle, hitting the floor with a muted thump. 

He reached out to check on them. 

It was a sickening squish that greeted his hand, and Renjun recoiled hard as the bus took a sudden brake and the body rolled over to reveal its true appearance. 

Maggots creeping out of the skin, the dermis splitting to reveal disgustingly sticky brown goo gummed to rotting black meat. He couldn’t tell if the glimpse of white was a bone or the flesh-eating insect’s eggs. 

He gagged. How had he not noticed the rancid smell before? 

Now that he had noticed it, he couldn’t ignore it, the odor of rot piercing into his nose. 

Renjun pulled a sleeve down to cover his hand and held it up to cover his nose. It didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing. 

The sudden realization of the unnatural silence was jarring. 

There hadn’t been a single scream from the sight of the body. 

He looked around, his awareness registering the bus devoid of any other presence of life. 

As he held his breath, fear began to creep in. He held still, and there was no noise beyond the quiet whirr of the engine, not even a single huff of breath. 

The tips of his fingers turned cold. 

_Who was driving the bus?_ _Or a better question was,_ ** _what_** _?_

He walked up to the driver’s seat. 

Empty, the leather chair strangely pristine, without the cracks and stains that normally marked such a frequented seat. 

As he watched, the steering wheel turned, steady in its motion, heedless of the lack of a hand to guide it. 

The entire bus reeked of a strange feeling, everything shifted just slightly off-kilter. The seats and floors were abnormally clean, a sharp contrast to the decaying body lying in the middle of the aisle, dried blood tracing its trajectory as it moved with the bus. 

_ Where was he? _ The street he could see in front was deserted, haunting in its familiarity. The windows of the bus were fogged and opaque, the frosted glass obscuring any view of the periphery, yet allowing the bright afternoon light to filter through. 

His eyes flicked over the LED sign, barely processing the numbers before his head snapped back in disbelief. 

_ 10:32 _ . Impossible. 

He couldn’t breathe. His vision blurred in and out of focus, the red numbers flickering. 

He couldn’t pull his eyes away. He waited, and waited, and waited. 

But no matter how long he stared, scrutinized those lines until the shapes no longer made sense, they never changed, never flipped to a different number. 

He didn’t know how long he was there, in an endless loop of driving, the sun never moving, the shadows eerily stagnant on the floor. Time held no meaning in the bus. 

He sat, he lay down, he stood. 

He paced back and forth, he huddled and cried, he did everything he could, yet nothing changed. 

He was stuck in this unending drive, an endless route. 

_ 10:32 _ . 

The numbers haunted him. 

His gaze was drawn to the corpse, pushed to the back long ago. 

He jerked himself away, but he kept getting pulled towards it, an invisible string dragging him closer ever so slowly. 

Step, by step, he moved closer. 

Until he found himself hovering above it, somehow on his knees. So close he could count the tiny eggs buried in the open gash across their chest. 

Strange, why had he thought it disgusting before?

Now, he was almost drooling at the thought of that red and white mash. Only the basic manners drilled into his subconscious held him back. 

What was stopping him? He was missing… something. 

The strange ravenousness tangled his thoughts,  _ what was wrong? _

Through the haze of his hunger, he remembered: to eat properly, he needed utensils. 

_ Oh _ , where were they? He couldn’t find them. 

No matter how much he wanted to just dig in, he couldn’t just eat with his hands. It would be far too messy, he didn’t have a change of clothes with him. 

Desperation provided him with a solution - he’d have to get his hands dirty briefly but what choice was there? He reached in, and  _ pulled _ . 

A sickening squelch. 

Renjun smiled, his wide grin baring his teeth.  _ What a lovely meal _ , he thought. 

  
  


He dug in. 

* * *

Renjun sat back with a sigh. 

Even with his best efforts to eat carefully, his face still got stained. 

He wiped at his lips roughly with his sleeve, staining the pale yellow fabric with messy red.

Momentarily, Renjun admired the pattern made on his sleeve, the beautiful dark red streaked across pretty yellow. Time - in its odd presence of inexistence on this bus - drifted by with his captivation. 

* * *

With his inexplicable hunger now satiated, doubt gradually creeped in. But at the same time his thoughts cleared from the sinister haze, lethargy gradually filled his limbs with lead. 

Slowly, slowly, drowsiness muddled his mind. 

And his consciousness slipped away, quiet as a shadow flickering. 

  
  


**And another one stepped forward.**

This one, it may have always been there, hiding. Or it could have been something new, unknown with origins as obscure as this bus trapped in a disconnected reality. 

In any case,  _ it _ was now  _ he _ , and  _ he  _ was in control. 

Familiar yet unfamiliar,  _ he _ assimilated throughout, taking over every inconsequential speck of the body, this new vessel. 

* * *

Trapped in insubstantial time, his craving built up again. 

He was so hungry, but there was nothing to eat. His hunger itched at him, a tickle that grew insistent as time passed. He scratched at his skin, his voracious appetite craving the warmth just out of reach, hidden under the smooth casing of skin. 

_ He _ hummed. It was time to leave this pocket of  _ dis- _ reality. 

He needed to go get his next meal. 

* * *

_ He _ stepped out with a smile, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted to this new body. It was quite suitable for him, surprisingly. It was rare to find such a good fit. 

When he stumbled on the step off onto the curb, someone caught his elbow, saving him from a nasty fall. “Whoa, careful there.” 

He looked up to smile at his helper. “Thanks!”  _ Bingo, how nice to come to me _ .

The boy’s eyes glazed over, seemingly mesmerized by  _ his _ charm.  _ He _ mused idly that this body might be good to keep longer than usual. The boy didn’t even appear to notice the bus shimmering sharply, sinister shadows hovering and slinking out to tangle his figure. 

“How about we get a meal?”  _ He  _ suggested, with a light smile. “I know a good place to eat.”

“Yeah…” the boy murmured, “that sounds good.” 

“Then, this way please.”  _ His _ voice was like honey, smooth, enticing the other boy to listen carefully for its words, to obey whichever requests it gave. 

“Sure…” With jerky movements, as if a puppet controlled by strings, the boy stepped forward. And on to the waiting bus. 

  
No one saw the small smirk on his face as  _ he _ stuck out the tip of his tongue, licking his lips with anticipation. “Yes, it will be  _ lovely _ .” 

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to write a meet-cute supernatural fic  
> ....but 3am does _things_ sometimes, and now we have this!
> 
> Did it make your skin crawl a little?  
> Did it make you want to curl up into a ball and shiver?  
> Maybe you read it in the bright afternoon light, much like the bus. Or maybe you read it in the darkness of the night, hidden under your covers. Either way, it'd be nice if you felt the creepiness, the strange off-tilt feeling of _him_ a bit. 
> 
> In any case, thank you for reading! Thank you for taking the time to click in and read through, truly  
> I think I'm satisfied with it, but I really hope that you liked reading it too


End file.
